


Water Petals

by Dietmoonfairy



Category: Tokyo Babylon, X -エックス- | X/1999, xxxHoLic
Genre: CLAMP crossover, Crossover, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-07
Updated: 2017-09-07
Packaged: 2018-12-24 22:31:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12022413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dietmoonfairy/pseuds/Dietmoonfairy
Summary: Before the end of the world was even upon him, Sumeragi Subaru's world had already crashed and burned. What brought this tragic man forward the 8 years after his sister's death to face the physical end? Or more precisely, who?





	Water Petals

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sawyer Raleigh](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Sawyer+Raleigh).



> Subaru realized, this was a moment that could be called timeless –it stood still and separate amongst those many thoughts and memories, and for years to come, he remembered it as a beginning, the first of many ripples.
> 
> He turned his gaze away from the canary, and unwittingly it fell onto the second ripple.

Water Petals

. . .

Part One

. . .

Himawari twirled a lock of her long, black hair, masking her gaze partially as she eyed the man standing within the stone confines of the marble gazebo. As he took a long drag from his cigarette, she contemplated his face, and why she felt so drawn to come here and watch him day after day. There was nothing terribly magnetic within his features or his countenance; if anything, he seemed the sort who your eyes could easily move over without cause for pause. Or more, Himawari noted, it was that he seemed to not want to be noticed, wanted to meld in with the surroundings so if eyes did find him they could just as easily rove past his face onto something of greater importance. She wondered how many days she too had simply passed him over, too caught up within her own activities to take note of much beyond.

Then one day, hurrying past from one class to another, her eyes had lingered a minuscule moment longer, and suddenly she saw him and realized she had been seeing him for ages without consciously noticing. It was like scanning an unfamiliar crowd of human faces then finding that one known face amongst the surplus human blur, except of course she did not know him. She had needed to physically stop in order to marvel at why she felt the urge to look at him in the first place. Himawari wasn't sure how long she'd remained there, standing within the moving sea of people, feeling as if she and the bittersweet man beneath the marble canopy were the only two individuals who stood still. All she knew was that since that day, his habit had become her habit, a routine filling in the blank spots of her days. Here she was once again, eyeing his subdued profile with an intense focus she never knew she possessed. She didn't need to wonder at what had changed her gaze enough that he finally did attract her notice; more, she needed to wonder why he caught her attention.

. . .

Through the light blue haze of smoke, Subaru noticed the girl watching him again. He had grown used to her peering glances, and felt no specific unease from her presence. It really was nothing more than the slightest shiver of a feeling, having eyes upon him, though given extra thought, Subaru might have wondered at it not bothering him more. His body should have screamed with adrenaline at that tiny sliver of perception, yet he only continued to inhale the rich toxin of his habit, and stand there like a stone amongst the pillars, feeling no more irritation than one would at a single strand of hair being out of place. Only a vague curiosity kept him alert to it at all; once he identified who the girl was not, he had no real need for vigilance. Yet her persistence, that continued presence of shiver at his back, day after day…it brought back the smallest of memories, memories like filth that should have died and rotted long ago, memories he always tried to cut away but found regenerated with disgusting clarity each waking moment.

Subaru scowled, a fraction of change to his expression, and dropped the cigarette, crushing and burying the embers with his heel like he wished he could those memories. Would he always travel down this road when he felt a gaze, even one as crystal clear and purely innocent as those turquoise eyes? Did all watching eyes secretly burn with a darker, reddened hue and twisted reason?

. . .

Himawari stirred her tea delicately, barely glancing up as the familiar figure slid into the seat across from her, dropping his burden with barely a sound.

"How is he?" she asked softly, staring into the swirling ripples with quiet determination.

"The same."

"The same. Always the same," she said, surprised by the note of frustration underlying her words. As though she still expected anything else. With a sigh, she pushed aside the tea, and groped for a smile as she looked up into Doumeki's black eyes. Even if Doumeki understood it wasn't him that made her frustrated and, underneath that, sad, she couldn't quite arrange the right words so he would fully understand why more than anything she thought the feelings required a pleasant smile. If she didn't smile now, and mean it, she thought she might never smile. Doumeki, at least, deserved her sincerity in even her smallest gestures. Himawari knew he felt it too, the small, dull ache that someone was missing. Even if they no longer pulled up a third café chair, even if they never left a physical space for him, he was still missed. No matter how she tried, she always missed him. Was it that aspect that frustrated her more than anything?

The silence that continued between them was not unpleasant or strained, but it lacked the companionable quality of those years before when a third person sat between them. Himawari had not realized how much that bothered her, the emptiness they continued to leave out of pointless respect, until she was filling it with words she never planned to speak.

"I've taken up stalking," she blurted out, not even bothering to add an air of nonchalance to the words. Realizing the severity of the words, Himawari scrambled to rephrase. "I mean, not stalking, that's far too creepy. I'm not following him home or around or really following him anywhere. I'm just...watching."

Doumeki's raised eyebrow spoke volumes. Setting his coffee down, he folded his hands atop the table, his expression becoming less quizzical and more accepting with the motion. "An interesting pastime to choose," he said, his deadpan almost imperceptible.

"It's no one you know," she continued, all the while wondering where the explanation was even headed. "Actually, it's no one even I know. Have you seen the marble gazebo on Clamp Campus?"

"I know of a few gazebos matching that description…" Only Doumeki could keep a straight face during such a conversation. But then, only Doumeki's presence would inspire Himawari to fill silence with this sort of confession in the first place.

"The location isn't the important part I guess. There's this guy there, I sort of just happened to see him one day. And he's…" Himawari struggled to find the right words to describe the figure she had taken to watching: his dark brow; green eyes the shade of spring grass; the way he always twirled the cigarette between his fingers once before lighting it, like a promise; the tilt of his head as he bent towards the glow of flame within his palm, the only time his features ever seemed lit, falsely or otherwise. "…sad." Anything more substantial eluded her, like grasping at that smoke the stranger seemed constantly caught in the midst of.

Anyone else would have jabbed at her, but Doumeki simply nodded as though this was a perfectly logical conversation, and that her observation was an essential reason to watch someone as obsessively as she did. Then again, he wasn't truly aware of how often she gave in to this habit.

"Why is he sad?" Doumeki asked, his gaze continuing to pry questions from her.

Why is anyone sad? Himawari countered, words of answer rising unbidden before she could finish her inner rhetorical question. "I'm not sure. I've never spoken to him. He stands in the same place every day, smoking a cigarette, never with any company…"

"He has company in you." Himawari didn't bother arguing the statement. A secret, small and terrible part of herself felt Doumeki could find company in a stone wall. It was his nature. It was not hers. And she didn't know how, or why, but she felt sure she also knew it was not the bittersweet man's either. Maybe he wanted it to be so, but it wasn't. She knew Doumeki, and she knew sad loneliness. She knew which the stranger was.

"I just spectate," Himawari said in answer, and found the fact somewhat disheartening rather than reassuring.

"Perhaps for now." And thus Doumeki ended the conversation as he resumed drinking his coffee, watching passerbys while Himawari watched him, turning his meaning over in silence and pursuing her tea once more.

. . .

Subaru felt the soft rays of early spring light filtering onto his back, and where once he had appreciated the warmth, it now barely registered in his consciousness. Nothing really registered within him anymore. He was like a puppet for life, going about the gestures as powerlessly as a marionette, and with just as much awareness. Sometimes he felt moments of clarity, like the pause as his lungs screamed in protest at the first smoke he intentionally inhaled, or when the sakura strayed into his path and caressed his skin by pure accident… What Subaru could not figure was if he lived for those moments, or lived to forget them. He consistently wrapped himself in an inescapable cocoon of memories and moments and thoughts, hating the pain of them and still existing with them embracing his person.

The shift from thoughtlessness into reality was seamless, yet jarring nonetheless. The presence on his shoulder, feather-light, brought his attention to the small, cream and yellow canary perching itself happily near his turned cheek. Subaru's widened green eyes met the brown beads of the bird, which cocked its small head with patient expectation, as if to say, "Don't worry, I'll wait for you to remember." And just like that, Subaru's voice, rusted over with disuse, whispered out a quiet "Hello there". Subaru realized, this was a moment that could be called timeless –it stood still and separate amongst those many thoughts and memories, and for years to come, he remembered it as a beginning, the first of many ripples.

He turned his gaze away from the canary, and unwittingly it fell onto the second ripple.

Subaru had never seen her fully; she always relied on a mixture of scenery and her own quite abundant hair to hide herself from even his peripheral sight. She stood taller than he had imagined, almost gangly, yet as she walked briskly towards him, even with the light blush creeping up her cheeks, she had a certain sleek yet bounding quality. And her eyes, which never looked away from his despite her obvious embarrassment, were a deeper and brighter blue than he ever could have imagined existed. He realized, with some finality, that she would be what men referred to as a heartbreaker; he also realized that those men would almost gladly come away devastated. The familiarity of feeling coated Subaru's skin with a cool shiver that tasted, he knew, of fear.

The bird on his shoulder chirped once with what he guessed was recognition before burrowing closer into him, an odd reassurance to the silken feathers against his cheek as it settled into the crook of his neck. Subaru waited as the girl approached him, watching her step into the gazebo with puzzling reverence. He wondered at her countenance as her features became clearer. She seemed, well, aside from slightly pink tinged, to be… still was the word he placed. It confused him, why he would choose such a word for someone clearly moving towards him physically. There was a mixture of tranquility and reserve to her face, and something more, a sweet rebellion against the others. Subaru mentally shook his head to try and make sense of the clash of existence he sensed from her. He found his interpretation of her interrupted as he caught her gaze, which was focused at the crook of his neck. He felt the barest hint of a responding smile, the simple up turning of the corner of his lips, when he noted her look of deep betrayal as she eyed the bird happily perched on him. Subaru could almost hear her eyes shouting, "Traitor!" He definitely felt the muscles of his face creaking with disuse into a more pleasant expression when he heard the unmistakable and unabashed chirrup of reply from the bird before he felt its warmth leave him, flying to the girl's waiting shoulder. With mild surprise, he realized the smile he wore did not fall away from his face as her eyes turned once more to his.

He expected her to apologize to him, unnecessarily, for the bird's interruption of his solitude. Then perhaps she might introduce herself and use the situation as some sort of ice breaker. She clearly had not planned this meeting, it was evident in her annoyed glancing welcome to her bird's return at her shoulder. Had Subaru been given the time to contemplate the chain of events, he might have decided he welcomed the interruption but dreaded the interaction. Perhaps it was for the better that he did not have the time to think about how he might react, especially since the woman he had only been slightly aware of for weeks did nothing he would have expected.

The whisper of the bird's quiet twitter still echoed in his ear when her voice echoed into reality.

"Are you a ghost?"

. . .

"What?" Himawari noticed his features changed in nothing close to the sharp way one would assume such a question to spur. The slight curve of his lips straightened to a line, and his brow knotted almost imperceptibly. If he was surprised by her question, and she certainly was since it had been the furthest thing from what she had been planning to open with, he did not wear the surprise openly.

"I've seen you in this exact spot, every day, never with anyone else, always doing the same don't seem to be waiting for anything or anyone in particular, you're just here, and that made me think maybe you're not...alive..." She stopped, realizing she had rushed into explanation and revealed more than she meant to, and hadn't been able to actually phrase anything well. Himawari internally shook her head, annoyed with how difficult making simple conversation seemed to be for her. Had it actually been so long since she strove to interact with others that when faced with it, she simply poured her unspoken thoughts out into the open air ad nauseum? She began to weigh whether the conversation was even salvageable, one small exchange into it. Should she explain herself, how it was that she knew his patterns and was fairly certain no one ever met him? Could she manage that without seeming any more strange and awkward and potentially insane than she already clearly was? This train of conversation, headed for definite derailment three sentences in, was it even worth pursuing, or should she just nod, bow, and scramble away as fast as she could manage and absolutely never speak of this again? That last option seemed so incredibly tempting.

As if sensing her disquiet, Tanpopo eased himself to her cheek, a small bubble of encouraging warmth. She ignored the instinct to blame him for the predicament, and instead embraced his reassurance. The dark man before her did not seem inclined to add anything, nor did he seem particularly wary of her as one might be after being informed by some perfect stranger that she knows your patterns enough to call them "clockwork." That reality alone lent itself to her original question; at least he was not normal, clearly. Because any normal person would likely take offense to being mistaken for dead, or so Himawari would figure. Curiosity pulsed within her like a second heart beating. "Would it even matter if it was raining or not?" she heard herself ask, continuing her original thought despite herself. It had been a strangely mild late winter, so she hadn't had the chance to note whether he was there in any kind of weather, and if she was going to ask questions she regretted immediately, she may as well be thorough.

"I don't suppose I care one way or another," he answered, closing his vibrant eyes to her face, still acting as though this were a perfectly normal conversation to have.

She wondered at that. "ls that normal for you?"

"Does it matter?"

Himawari did not pause before saying, "It makes it difficult for me to tell if you're a dead or not." She immediately regretted it, first because she had to wonder whether she was making an attempt for the worst conversation in recorded history, then because the stranger opened his eyes and his gaze met hers momentarily. She got a small taste of the tragedy behind the eyes before its reflection receded back to the green depths and he averted his look away from her.

"Not all ghosts are dead," he said quietly.

Himawari had not honestly expected him to answer that he was dead, if she ever humored the idea of asking him. If he was actually dead, it was unusual for a ghost to recognize they were. But his answer was so icily honest, cold in its statement of fact as well as empty of any twinge of emotion, that Himawari felt the hairs at the back of her neck prickle slightly, more of a reaction than she might have had if the man had told her he was long dead.

She at once felt a deep pity leaden as a ball in her stomach, and a shiver of adrenaline, the twinge in her limbs that might allow her a flight response. That pulsing sadness she had sensed from him at a distance was so concentrated in close proximity, and it frightened her on a very base and involuntary level, the adrenaline pulse as natural as the yank of a hand away from something so cold it burned.

He was sad enough to burn her.

"So then," she managed to venture as she shook the shiver away, determined to continue, "are you a student here?"

If he found it odd or jolting that she leapt from asking if he was dead to what he did with his life, he did not acknowledge the strangeness. He looked at the cigarette between his fingers, watching the smoke tendrils for just a tiny moment before he apparently decided something. The still-smoldering cigarette dropped from his hand, coming to rest beneath the toe of his boot before he returned his green eyes to Himawari's blue.

"Not exactly," was his short answer. She waited a moment, thinking he might explain. But he simply looked at her, his attention apparently no longer divided.

"If you aren't exactly a student, does that make you a professor? A student teacher? A soon to be student?" Before Subaru could answer, Himawari realised how incredibly prying such a line of questions might be. Sure they weren't exactly questions to rend your soul, but clearly his nonanswers suggested something and she had not been taking the hint. He was likely humoring her. "I'm sorry, I'm prying. And I never even asked, am I disturbing you? I probably should have asked that first…" She glanced down at Tanpopo, somehow annoyed he had let her get to this point.

Surprise, or what must have passed as surprise, marked the man's face as he answered, "No, you're not."

In her relief to his answer, Himawari felt a smile break out on her face. How strange to be delighted by someone telling you you're not bothering them. Something about such a statement from this person, however, felt immense.

"I'm Kunogi Himawari," she said through the smile, bobbing into a courteous bow. "I'm studying business management here." She wrinkled her nose somewhat at that before recovering her smile. It was new, introducing herself as a business student, and she still could not be sure she liked it. In all honesty, she knew she did not like it being an identifying feature, something to draw a stereotype from. She regretted the addition. But it was the truth, and perhaps she could defy the first impression someone else might draw from her being simply a business student.

Her smile did not falter as she watched the man struggle to initially find the right response. His body moved stiffly and without his full awareness into a stiff bow, as though its muscle memory was all that saved him socially. He did answer though, his tone suggesting both an unsureness and hesitation as well as surprise, perhaps that he was even answering at all. "Sumeragi Subaru." For a moment, it seemed that was all he would say. But then, after a pause, he added, "I was a student here, once."

"Why come back every day?" She could have asked him what he had been studying, or why he no longer was a student, but somehow those questions were too intimate. Maybe this question asked too much as well, but Himawari thought it the most appropriate to ask.

He considered a moment, and Himawari could not be sure if he was trying to decide how best to answer, or which answer he wanted to give her. "I'm not entirely sure," was what he decided on. Unbidden, Himawari found herself thinking if he couldn't find motivation for why he would haunt a place, that further fueled a theory that he was a ghost. Himawari had met ghosts before, and she had experience with the strange in general. She genuinely could not tell what the man before her was, but that mattered to her less as she spoke with him.

After a moment, as if realizing how his answer fit into the context of their conversation and disliking it, Subaru chose to continue. "It was a place my sister and I came to. Something at the heart of Tokyo, but quieter. She thought it was the perfect spot, it suited both of us equally." He looked so grieved with the addition, Himawari knew not to ask after his sister. And she didn't expect him to supply anything further.

His quiet demeanor, his short statements that spoke volumes, these were familiar things to her. Perhaps if she had not spent her formative high school years in one-third company quiet stoicism, Himawari might feel more uncomfortable. In this though, she had practice, if not in her own personal dealings with Doumeki, then with her watching Watanuki and Doumeki, witnessing their friendship and its mechanisms. And while Subaru's sadness was not something she had ever seen or felt to such depths, sadness on a deeply personal level was something she knew. So she offered Subaru all she had to offer in response to his statement: what she hoped was a smile conveying a little understanding, a little comfort, a little companionship.

. . .

Her small smile felt...Subaru groped to actually find a word for feeling again, reaching from the remoteness that was his familiar. He settled simply for the acknowledgement that seeing her face crease in such a way, and knowing that it was meant for him, held something. He could not be sure he wanted to venture further into knowing it enough to name it.

The rusted part of him that once had been socialized did at least know he needed to acknowledge her reaction somehow, perhaps continue his train of thought. But glancing away from Himawari's face, Subaru felt that well-known apathy settling back into its familiar place, a mangy cat readjusting but never actually moving, yellowed eyes full of reproach at the notion. Thoroughly squashed beneath its weight was whatever part of him that may once have wished to care.

Himawari, however, seemed politely unabashed. When he found her face again, and it could have been hours since he looked away (though in truth it was likely only seconds), she remained, gently smiling. Subaru wondered if she would wait forever, if she was accustomed to waiting for something and he was just another addition. Something about this brought her back into focus, the cat shifting slightly.

"May I ask," she ventured, and Subaru realized that though she broke the silence, her voice did not shatter it. It reached through, like a hand dipping slowly into water and being embraced by it. "If you aren't a student any longer, what is it that you actually do?"

He could tell her anything, he realized. He didn't know why such a thought struck him. Rarely in his lifetime had Subaru ever been inclined to be anything but completely honest. But in this instance, he knew that he could lie. His past, his present, they could be whatever he wanted to make them into, anything but their reality.

The thought, even just in passing, left him nearly physically sick. It came dangerously close to something he might do.

The full truth was impractical to tell. Subaru realized few people he encountered were as genuinely interested in an answer, though, as the woman before him. So while he could tell her anything, or even could tell her small truths that could be interpreted multiple ways, he ultimately could not answer her open face with words dipped in the acid of manipulation.

"I work as an onmyouji." He waited to see how much, if at all, his answer registered with her. Your average college student might have heard whispered stories here and there. Some of the more outlandish students followed the odd news report or badly written article drenched in superstition, but those were also the young adults who tended to wear a lot of black eyeliner and trench coats. The likelihood Himawari knew much about onmyouji at all was fairly limited, if she even thought they were real to begin with.

"Oh!" Himawari threw a hand to her mouth in surprise as a pink blush of embarrassment spread across her cheeks. Her look of contrite apology following this was certainly not a reaction Subaru could have predicted. "And here I am, asking whether you're a ghost!" she exclaimed with dismay. Clearly she believed his profession prevented him from succumbing to such a fate. The lack of truth to that assumption aside, her clear ease and even familiarity with his line of work added a new layer to Himawari he also could not have expected.

The bird at her shoulder let out a melodic stream of tweets, asking for attention to be brought back to it. Himawari gave her bird a warm, dotingly affectionate smile, its previous transgression clearly forgiven. "I have a friend who used to run errands for...well, I don't think she was technically an onmyouji. She acted as a medium sometimes, but mostly she seemed to do a lot of odd jobs that weren't exactly normal. Watanuki would call them all sorts of names, but mostly he just said they were 'strange.' With a little taste of 'magical' added in there. It certainly meant Watanuki, my friend that is, had a lot of interesting experiences. Actually," Himawari nuzzled the bird before turning her attention back to Subaru, "Tanpopo here was a gift from her. And him."

Subaru squinted imperceptibly at Tanpopo. What had originally appeared as a normal bird was intriguingly intricate, he realized. It was a bird, not some sort of shikigami or well-disguised spirit. But it was also….other. He hadn't realized it until focusing on it, but it was almost too perceptible and well-defined, like a paper cutout pushed forward just millimeters to cast the illusion of importance by overshadowing all else. Its faintly sweet scent still lingered at his shoulder, something soothing, euphoric yet clinging and somehow healing.

When she looked back to him, Himawari appeared mildly apologetic. "I need to meet with someone soon," she admitted with reluctance. Abruptly, she bowed, letting her hair hide her face momentarily. "Would you mind my coming again?" she asked, avoiding looking up at him for an answer.

Normally, if someone showed him the interest Himawari did, Subaru would have felt the clutch of apathy and nothing more. And while he would never have told someone an outright no, a small part of him would have wished he could, because it was far simpler to be alone in one's thoughts while also alone in reality.

As he opened his mouth to answer, Himawari interrupted. "I know this is a special place for you, and I would hate to intrude, so if you would prefer I not, I understand." At this point, her eyes met his again, and she clearly was trying to convey something to him. Perhaps she meant to only lend weight to her statement, but Subaru sensed something more. He felt a warning, an almost plea for him to put a barrier between them. He had not planned to refuse her, but in a not too unusual act of hopeful self-sacrifice, he answered, "You aren't interrupting anything of importance."

Then, completely unbidden, Subaru added, "You can continue evaluating your theory about whether I'm haunting this place because I'm a ghost." He wasn't sure whether he was serious or joking.

Himawari blushed in response, embarrassed. "I think we've established you're not," she said, looking away at Tanpopo rather than him.

Subaru, still overtaken with strange verbosity, pursued the line of conversation. "You can't be sure of that." This time, Himawari looked directly at him. And without meaning to, Subaru gave the smallest smiles of reassurance. He didn't know why. It was quite possibly a form of dishonesty to lead her into believing he wasn't a ghost. Perhaps he wasn't by strict definition, but it couldn't be denied he barely qualified as living. He had no intention to change that either.

Himawari smiled in kind with her own reassuring grin, choosing not to disagree but instead bowing again. "Until tomorrow, then," she said. Tanpopo added his own farewell before Himawari turned.

Subaru watched her departing figure longer than he meant to, longer than he expected to. Even after she had disappeared out into the continuous milling throng of students, he found himself unable to go back to his usual routine. It no longer held his attention, and feeling oddly distracted he eventually chose to leave the gazebo himself.

 

. . .

**Author's Note:**

> Back in the late 2000s, Sawyer Raleigh forced me into X fandom. Since then, as she's explored different avenues for characters, I've come along for the ride. One of our favorites to puzzle over is Subaru Sumeragi. At some point, while discussing the 8 or so odd years between Tokyo Babylon and X/1999, we decided Subaru must've had some sort of relationship with someone -friendship, romance, it didn't matter. SOMETHING brought him from the man he was at the closing of one series to the man Kamui met in X. This is an experimental exploration of one such possibility, and I have worked and reworked this first chapter many times over the years (the last 7 years, to be exact; I checked the original Fanfiction.net publication date even). I have worked, on and off, with the entire story over the years, I just never published more than that first 3 pages or so. I now have a (rough) plan for what I want to do with the rest of the fic, and while I can't promise any sort of regular updates, I do plan to write it all if only for Sawyer. I figure it's a good use of my procrastination efforts at least!


End file.
